


The way to a man's heart is through his stomach

by ToMarsAndBeyond3



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Blood and Gore, DGHDA Halloween Mini Bang, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToMarsAndBeyond3/pseuds/ToMarsAndBeyond3
Summary: Dirk is caught up in a bit of a problem one day, one that involves the man he would least like to see.
Relationships: Dirk Gently/Osmund Priest, Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	The way to a man's heart is through his stomach

**Author's Note:**

> I was sick jsuskdhejdh but now I'm better and it's up

The human brain isn't pink. Well, it can be, but it's most often referred to as grey. Sure it can have pink and red in any varying shade, but the brain is grey and that cannot be argued. Dirk didn't know this, not until now. But laying against a wall while he tried to hold his insides in his stomach as he stared at a man with a split head was turning out to be a learning experience. His brains were leaking out; he had never really appreciated how much head wounds bled. The man had to be dead, right? He was still in his barista uniform, a young man fresh from work. A college kid. He'd been flirting with Dirk all morning and he'd been humoring him, considering it even. Todd wouldn't mind, Farah wouldn't either.

But the kid was dead now, so it didn't matter.

He wasn't even sure what had happened. Dirk had been loitering in the coffee shop all morning, this was the place to be. He could feel it in his bones. Maybe the universe wanted him dead though, because at 11:56 in the morning an explosion had dismantled the building. Dirk was rolling across the street before he knew what happened, a hole in his stomach as the young man laid next to him. he'd tried to wake him at first

The street was empty, that's what tipped Dirk off. This street was never empty, it was main street. An explosion would have attracted people, bystanders and witnesses. But there was no one, no sound expect for the flames and quiet moans coming from the ruined building.

Zombies? No that was stupid. Survivors most likely. Dirk's vision was turning bright, the sun shining in his eyes. God his stomach fucking hurt.

"Dirk?"

Dirk cringed from the noise, the sound ringing in his ears. A shadow appeared and blocked out the sun, leaving Dirk to have a bit of relief from the excessive heat. The figure crouched down and his face came into view: Dirk tried to move further away but found only the wall and a shooting pain.

"Hey, shit," Priest said, his hands hovering above Dirk's stomach. "What the fuck are you doin' here?"

"Get away."

"Why are ya' out here," Priest hissed.

Dirk pressed his hands against his stomach, blood staining his skin and soaking his shirt. The shirt was ruined, that was all he could think about. A perfectly good shirt from a perfectly good shop. Wasn't this the one that Todd bought him? But now there was a hole in it and Dirk was trying to apply pressure to something that felt hopeless. It took a second to realize Priest was still there, sat on his lap with his hands over the wounds as well.

"Got yourself in quite a spot," Priest said softly. He brought a hand up, the blood hot and sticky and pressed it against Dirk's face, pulling his gaze up to meet his. "Don't fly too high, back up's almost here."

"No," Dirk mumbled, trying to push him away. "Get off-"

Priest pressed harder on the wound; Dirk blanched.

"Hey, little bird," Priest said quietly, pressing their foreheads together. "Shut up. You're gonna bleed out."

No. No. No no no-

Dirk felt a tight, ongoing pinch in his stomach that seemed to get worse the longer it was there. He realized, after about an hour curled up on the hospital bed, that the pain was actually stitches. When had he got stitches? When had he even gone under to have some sort of surgery? It felt like death was looming above him, watching over his shoulder with a tense sort of excitement. Dread had settled on Dirk's shoulders like a blanket that had been left out in the cold.

A phone. He needed a phone.

A hand placed itself on his chest as he tried to get up and he settled back down, for when he tried to move his stomach started twisting and cramping, red hot irons trailing up his torso and seizing his heart. He looked up at Priest, but that was a mistake.

What if his face was the last thing he ever saw? He wanted that to be Todd. Todd should be the last thing he ever saw. But he couldn't help but feel like he had been in this position before.

Or at least something like it.

He's been... so young. Old enough to be an adult, but barely. He had always felt like a child in Blackwing no matter how old he got.

He'd been hurt then, too. A bad interaction with a subject that had ended with Dirk in the hospital wing. He remembered it solely because it was the first time Priest had come looking for him without an intent to hurt him. Instead, while Dirk had been laying on the bed with his shoulder stitched up, Priest had put his arm in the numerous stitches and bandages.

"The hell," Priest mumbled. Something was twisting his face, and emotion. But Priest couldn't feel those.

"I'm sorry sir," Svlad said, refusing to look him in the eye. "I'm- I'm sorry, and I'll do better-"

"Shut up," Priest said with a glare. He stared at the boy for a moment and the world seemed to freeze.

If Svlad should have a crush on anyone why did it have to be him?

Then Priest pulled away.

"Be careful next time."

"Mr- Mr. Priest," Svlad said softly. He reached out, his good arm outstretched. "Sir-"

"Put your arm down," Priest said quietly. He lowered Dirk's arm himself, setting it gently overtop of his aching stomach. "Be more careful next time."

"What?" Dirk's voice was hoarse and the van smelled of blood. Was it his? At least it wasn't moving, they weren't driving.

"I said be careful," Priest said, glaring at him with a strange expression on his face. "Y'almost fuckin' died."

"I'm sorry," Dirk said, taken aback by the anger in Priest's voice. "I'm sorry."

"Right." 

Priest let go of Dirk's chest, sitting next to him and leaning against the wall of the van with his eyes closed. There was an awful scar running down the middle of his face; his nose had healed in two separate parts, leading to an awful and terrifying display. Dirk winced at the pain in his stomach and Priest opened one eye.

"Careful," he said in a quiet voice. "Don't go flyin' off."

"What the hell happened?"

"Just you bein' places you shouldn't." Priest reached over and ran his fingers through his hair, making him tense for a moment. But he didn't grab his hair or jerk his head, or try to pull it out.

He just petted him. And Dirk... sighed in relief.

"Sorry sir," Dirk mumbled. He couldn't be anything but well behaved, not with Priest here. Not with that terror he brought; a feeling so numbing and crippling it made it hard to think sometimes.

They stopped, finally, and Dirk felt his vision start to tunnel. But when the doors open he saw ghost stickers in windows and pumpkins in the grass outside. It was a hospital. And then Priest was gone, like he was never there in the first place. A wisp of a memory that was still imprinted where Dirk had been touched. The white coats of the doctors disoriented him, and he tried to reach up to his head again only for his arms to be put back down by the doctors. 

The whole thing was like a dream, and as most dreams do, it would probably fade with time. 

So why didn't it feel like one? Why could he still feel his fingers in his hair, his hands on his stomach helping him keep in the snaking intestines trying to slip out of body? Dirk shuddered as he thought of it, the way his body had fallen apart. If it could happen once like that, it could happen again. And the sight had surely given Priest ideas.

But instead of dwelling, Dirk let the anesthesia take him into the dark, thinking instead of the probable mountains of candy he was going to get as a gift later. There was no explosion, there was no Blackwing, and there was no Priest. It was all a nightmare.

A very strange, very vivid and gentle nightmare.


End file.
